The Mad Man in London
by Spockologist
Summary: Following the close of another successful case, Holmes and Watson stumble across a man injured on the moor. Taking the enigmatic stranger in leads to the sorts of adventures you could only have when one meets the mad man and his box. NON-Slash, a bit angst a bit crack and my first time attempting Doctor Who so bear with me.
1. Chapter 1

***Dramatic entrance* I'm back! And attempting to write Doctor Who….What on earth am I getting myself into? My understanding of the Whovian fandom is limited, and I am just attempting to start writing the mysterious Doctor so please bear with me. **_**Nice **_**critiquing is helpful. And it is much to my shame that my Victorian writing has atrophied a bit. So let's all try this again, shall we?**

**~Love, Spockologist. **

**Oh, and since this is written in both the SH and DW fandom, anything can happen and random hinting at other fandoms will be sprinkled throughout. Consider it the ultimate crossover of sorts. **

"Holmes,"

I hissed the word, but it sounded harsh in the silence as it wound its way up to my companion a few branches above me. Holmes gave me a cursory glance and went back to peering out into the darkness.

"Hush, Watson. Not much longer."

I stretched my leg as much as I could from this awkward sitting position. The night was bitter cold with icy winds sinking in from off the moor and I was beginning to tire of the game.

"Watson, I said quiet." His voice rose slightly in frustration as it is wont to do when he becomes obsessive.

"I didn't say anything." I bit back; equally as irritable.

"Don't be absurd, I can hear that obnoxious grating clear as day. What a peculiar…" he broke off. "Hush before Cooper comes out and hears us. I've been working three months on this case and I promised the Richards family a successful conclusion."

I rolled my eyes and went back to rubbing my leg that had was quickly seizing up in the oncoming fog. The grounds were hardly luxurious in the dead of night and from the perch of an inconspicuous tree, but I brightened the mood by wishing that perhaps Mrs. Richards would be hospitable in the form of a hot cup of tea laced with brandy.

Holmes's breath caught as he leaned forward from his perch; causing the branch to bend at an alarming angle. But he paid no heed to the danger and watched fascinated as a shadowy figure darted across the manicured lawn and over the hedges.

"There he is, doctor. I believe we will be well rewarded after all."

"Hadn't you go dash after him?" I responded somewhat dryly.

"No need. Lestrade and his men are fully capable of making an arrest. I ought to give them some sort of chance to redeem themselves after that Worthington bungle."

The sound of shouting and a muffled thud brought truth to his words and he grinned smugly as he leapt to the ground with an agility denied me by my injury.

"Come along now. To the house to see things finalized and ready the carriage."

I slid down in a slower manner; grumbling about an all night carriage ride until he clapped me on my back as we began the long walk up to the estate. "Brilliant work you did there, doctor. You make my nights on watch a great deal less lonely."

"I appreciate the sentiment. You use me as a sort of companion."

He laughed and I smiled good naturedly. Being a companion to the great detective was hardly something to take lightly and we both understood the deeper appreciation in those simple words.

Mrs. Richards was a sweet elderly lady; still holding her head upright and seemingly never in a foul temper. She kissed both our cheeks upon arriving and as hoped for, rang for tea. Mr. Richards shook our hands and congratulated Holmes on his success in capturing the culprit of their burglaries. I half listened as they discussed issues of payment and the more legal pieces of his case.

"Thank you, Mrs. Richards for your kind hospitality." I said graciously as I sipped the warm liquid. She beamed happily.

"You are most welcome. Many thanks to you and your companion for clearing this up for us." She frowned at the memory. "It's been a most dreadful ordeal."

"We are always happy to help in any way we can."

"Watson," Holmes appeared at my shoulder. "We must be going. I'd like to be back in London before dawn."

"Oh, do let us put you up for the night." Mrs. Richards insisted. "It's such a long way to go."

"I'm afraid we must." Holmes informed. "I have other cases to attend to and I've pulled Watson away from his practice far too long. Thank you for your services." He grabbed my arm and moved us towards the door.

The Richards smiled politely and we were soon away from the brightly lit halls and sitting silently in the rocking dark of the carriage as it began its swaying journey back to London.

"What cases?" I asked finally.

Holmes struck a match; a brief flicker of light illuminating the interior before dimming. "Cases,"

"Of what sort? And Anstruther has my practice until the end of the week."

"Perhaps it's classified."

"You just didn't want to stay there, did you?"

"Watson, don't be absurd. Staying in such an estate as that for yet another night was hardly high on my list of things to accomplish. I have other things to attend to." He puffed indignantly. "Besides, I was cordial; but the strain of such polite conversation was truly wearing thin."

"Your childhood nanny would be so disappointed to know all her teaching brought you to only appreciate society to a point."

"Miss Poppins was a very kind woman. Practically perfect in every way. I however, am not and the bohemian blood tends to stain most enthusiasm for joining society." He leaned against the cushion and closed his eyes. "How's the leg?"

"Fine," I lied.

"You're limping a bit more. I can hear you massaging it. I apologize for making you sit out in the cold for so long."

I stopped rubbing my leg and sat still. "It's quite alright. Just let it loosen up a bit."

"London out to do that. I am hardly enthused with the idea of summer coming. The Thames always smells so."

"I'm not the one who went swimming in it." I pointed out with a grin and he scowled.

"Yes, well, in the end, the goal was achieved; despite the rather unsatisfactory means."

"Your modus operandi has certainly always been peculiar. May I add champion swim diver to your title of private consulting detective?"

"Your humor precedes you, doctor." He responded dryly. "Perhaps Mrs. Richards wouldn't have been so taken with you had she first been made aware of your incorrigible sense of hilarity."

"She was charming." I said defensively.

"And you ever the gentleman, I know." Holmes said soothingly.

We lapsed into companionable silence as I stretched my leg onto the seat across from me and Holmes peered through the window out in the darkness of the moor. I can't imagine what he was seeing out there. I preferred the sanctuary of the carriage and a lone sheepdog howling sent shivers down my spine. The moor has hardly been a comforting place since Baskerville.

I began to nod off into much needed sleep as the carriage bumped rudely across the road and changed tracks for a short bridge across the river. The water was sluggish and the current low as my companion held up a hand.

"Stop the carriage."

"What?"

He ignored me and banged on the roof with his hand to signal the driver to slow and jumped out without a word. I had little choice but to follow and limped out stiffly to meet him as he peered down into the water.

"Driver, your lantern if you please." He took the light from off the front of the cab and swung it over the water. I gasped and he looked grim. "What do you say, doctor? It doesn't look promising."

He followed me down the embankment and stopped me just one step before entering the water. "Hold the lantern, I'll fetch him."

I understood the silent branch of service offered knowing full well what the freezing water would do to my leg and held the lantern while my friend sloshed across the stream to inspect the corpse.

"He's not dead." Holmes called back. "We may have hope yet." He slung an arm around his shoulder and half dragged half carried the sodden figure back to shore. In the dim light of the lantern; the prospects were dismal.

"He looks near gone already." I took half and stepped carefully up the hill.

"I determine he's been in the water for nearly two hours. With these temperatures, it's a miracle he's still got a pulse, wouldn't you say? Hypothermia at least. Not to mention other injuries." My friend was enthusiastic. "And note his clothing. He's most certainly not some common shepherd fallen in on his way home."

"You can question him later." I nudged open the carriage door and rather harshly dragged the poor fellow after. "We need to get him warm. Take off your boots and use the blanket stowed under the seat to get dry. I won't have you catching cold."

"Yes, doctor." Holmes grinned cheekily as I ignored him. Anyone who became this animated over discovering a near drowned body ought to be considered for Bethlem.

I quickly peeled off the man's outer coat and discarded it on the floor; Holmes took interest in the pocket contents that rolled onto the floor as I snatched the other blanket and tried to warm the poor fellow up.

"Ask the driver for his hip flask." I directed and Holmes leaned out the window to petition the driver. It was quite a feat to get liquid down his throat; but he coughed and spluttered and the desired object was achieved.

My friend didn't waste a moment in leaping to his point. "My name is Sherlock Holmes and this is my companion Doctor Watson. We took the liberty of fishing you from the river where you surely would have perished. Now, do tell us just what you were doing there and how you came to be in such a dire situation."

The man gaped. "You're…you're, oh my." He threatened to faint again and I glared at Holmes.

"Give him time to compose himself."

Holmes turned sulky. "It's a fair question."

The man nodded vaguely. "He's right, you know. I'm the Doctor. Pleasure to make your acquaintances and my many thanks for saving me from…perishing." There was the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes before his head rolled back and he once again slipped into unconsciousness.

Holmes sighed. "Well, doctor. At least he isn't dead. We'll have to take him with us back to Baker Street. I have the suspicion he's going to be quite a fascinating study. You, of course, may tend to him as you see fit and I will do all the questioning."

"How kind."


	2. Chapter 2

**My goodness! So many requests I bring this back! I actually wrote this as a bit of a crack fic for a friend awhile ago… It switches POV between current Holmes and Watson treating an unconscious Doctor, and the Doctor's POV before ending up in the state he did in chapter one.**

…**..complicated? Nah. You're all very clever. And like I mentioned, it's a bit cracky despite the foreshadowing, and there are more crossovers. Lots of hinting at that here. **

The Doctor ducked down a side alley and nearly bumped into a street seller shouting in classic Cockney, the chant: 'Ot potato! 'Ot potato! Ha' penny!"

He apologized, profusely and weaved his way into the pool that was the thriving street market of the Victorian Chinese district. He'd heard rumors of a Mogwai being seen in one of the shops and wanted to check it out before a problem started.

He stepped lightly out of the way of a group of giggling girls and held his breath past the entrance to an opium den before coming to the narrow doorway of the aforementioned Oriental shop.

The low hanging scent of incense did little to mask the stench of the street outside and he let his hand trail through a pile of beads and across the heads of little golden idols before approaching the counter to face the scowling shopkeeper.

"You break, you buy."

He immediately put down the jade dragon and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Hello,"

The owner raised an eyebrow and went back to counting out coins.

The Doctor rambled on. "I'm looking for a Mogwai. Perhaps you've seen one. About yea big, cute and fluffy; sings all sorts of happy little songs." He attempted a few notes of a Mogwai melody but trailed off after receiving a blank stare in return.

"No such thing."

"You don't have one?"

"No sell."

"So you _do _have one."

"Not for you."

"I could really use it."

The merchant shook his head. "No sell. Too dangerous."

"That's why I want it, you see, I was going to take it back with me to Luellor and let it go."

The response was stony. The Doctor sighed. "Right, so I will...uh never mind then, thank you."

He again trailed his hand across the golden idols and through the beads on his way out into the street. That had not gone over well. But at least he knew there was a Mogwai in London. He snorted. Imagine letting a Mogwai loose in eighteen ninety five. The people would panic and call it Armageddon if one ever managed to get free. He laughed quietly and made his way back through the crowd to the chants of 'ot potato.'

~o0o~

"He's not breathing, Watson. I can't question him if he's not breathing."

I looked up long enough to give a flat look. "He's breathing. Just a bit shallowly, that's all."

Holmes stared down from where he stood behind the settee. "He looks even worse in the light. Just look at those scratches." He leaned in closer to examine. "Long claws, reptilian. Built for shredding, and those smaller pock marks would have to be teeth. What the devil could create that sort of work? Clearly it's not indigenous."

"I would ask you to please stay a respectful distance. I can't see with your head blocking the way." I reached calmly for my kit on the floor.

Holmes muttered and took to the armchair; still watching with a bright expression. "It's hard to deduce much from him. He's been near Chinatown recently; and his choice of footwear is rather peculiar. American perhaps?"

I did my best to tune out his musings and focus on my patient. He may have been Holmes's new outlet for observation, but he was still human and in need of the proper form of attention before any other sort of interest could be created. Or at least, he ought to have been human.

"Holmes, his heart is like a staccato. Almost two hearts beating at an off rhythm."

"Really?" He leapt off his chair and crowded over. "Let me have a listen."

"No need to press so hard." I chided as I noticed the man flinch. "Be gentle. Just right here."

It was very rare to catch the detective by surprise. In fact, it was an emotion his face didn't seem to hold very well. But on this instance, his eyes were as large as saucers as he breathed.

"My word."


End file.
